It was a clear night, not a cloud in the sky which was odd lately. It had been an extremely rainy June so everyone cherished these clear, dry moments. I was enjoying the time on the balcony of the home I had recently shared with two of the most important people in my life. But they had been gone for weeks and here I stand with my service revolver held to my temple.
“I can’t do this anymore.” I whispered into the still night while tears rolled down my face.
The past year of my life had been hell, plain and simple. True there had been some bright spots provided mostly by my friends and the light of my life Sebastian, but the horrors I saw and lived through outnumbered the good.
The only one here to witness my final demise is the puppy Sebastian loves so dearly, our three year old terrier mix Zebbie. She was wiggling behind the door probably giving me puppy dog eyes but I couldn’t bring myself to acknowledge her or I might chicken out. I could hear her tail hitting the door, knowing all she wanted to do was come join me on the balcony but I couldn’t turn around. In a simple, slightly harsh tone I said, “Go get a drink Zebbie.” which the dog usually took as a cue for her to hide under the couch. But tonight she remained at the door whimpering slightly after she heard my voice. Could she sense how anxious and desperate I felt? Did she know what I was about to do? But that was impossible, she was just a dog.
I forced myself to stop thinking about the dog and focus on why I was out here. I looked around at the neighborhood I had grown up in, the neighborhood I had intended to raise a family in but that was no more. Tonight this was the neighborhood I would die in.
This was also the neighborhood where the horrors of the past year began. Four blocks away a killer took out their rage on a small family. The killer who consumed my nightmares for months as well as terrorizing an entire community. We finally apprehended them after seven more families suffered the same fate. The killer came frighteningly close to making it eight.
One of the good things to come from this killing spree was my girls. The four of us, representing four different sides of this case, spent countless hours talking over every aspect of this case. It had been a detail that Kyla, the medical examiner saw that broke the case wide open.
I should go inside and call one of them. They would all materialize at my door within five minutes of my first hello, of that I was sure. For some reason I could not do the logical thing right now, I was acting on pure emotion. The funny part of this is those two traits combined are what has made me the successful detective that I am.
In the field I am extremely methodical when looking at a crime scene, processing every detail I can find. Then when I’m with the loved ones of a victim I listen to what they say, almost as if I’m grieving with them which caused them to share details they may not share with less compassionate officers. My partner swears wither I have multiple personalities or I’m a robot because of my seamless transition between logic and emotion. She swears I may be the best partner in the department but I was not normal.
I guess I’m proving the not normal theory right tonight, because most homicide detectives don’t blow their brains out the day before the killer they hunted down goes to trial.
Again I look down towards where this whole nightmare started, The Olsen’s house on 72nd and Beloit.